


AC2014 [7]: Of All The Ways To Crash a Car

by twotenths



Series: F1 Advent Challenge 2014 [5]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Advent Challenge 2014, Hospitals, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twotenths/pseuds/twotenths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You cannot have small crashes, hmm?” </p><p>Set after the 6 Hours of Sao Paulo</p>
            </blockquote>





	AC2014 [7]: Of All The Ways To Crash a Car

**Author's Note:**

> Not strictly Christmassy but I was running low on creative juice.

The accident is a blur. He remembers getting in the car for his first stint, at the lead of the field and running well. He had jumped out feeling reasonably buoyed by how things had gone, and disappeared off to the motorhome to recharge.

The next thing he remembers is waking up in a hospital bed, with a head that felt like it had been cleaved in two and a body that must have done a few rounds in the boxing ring. There are flashes of recollections; a head stuck in his car door with a worried expression asking if he’s alright, strapped to a stretcher, trying to wave an arm around for a reason he can’t quite remember, the piercing wail of a siren, and someone asking if he wanted some morphine. He assumes he readily accepted because there’s nothing at all he remembers between that point and this.

With arms that feel like lead, he pushes himself up the bed and almost immediately regrets it when what feels like a herd of rhinos begin to stampede around his skull. _Steady on,_ he thinks to himself, _No sense in making yourself feel worse, Mark._

“You cannot have small crashes, hmm?”

Mark blinks, and lets his head loll to the side, his eyes drawn to the man he hadn’t known was sitting next to his bed.

“Frrnano?” In his defence, he’s had a _lot_ of morphine, and Fernando is a lot of vowels and syllables.

“You never brush a barrier, or have a small breakdown, you have to make a car explode or flip or completely disintegrate!”

Even Mark, in his slightly woozy state, can sense the traces of fear and anger creeping into his voice. Fernando has jumped to his feet and is pacing up and down by the foot of his bed and Mark feels dizzy watching him

“You do not even have the decency to speak on the radio, to say you are okay, you are not dead. I was so worried Mark, you do not know, the car was _destroyed._ I have never driven to an airport faster.”

That’s right, Fernando wasn’t there with him that weekend. He must have been in Spain, or Monaco, or perhaps Dubai. But here he was now, sitting by his bedside in a hospital in Sao Paulo, ranting and raving, and downright glaring at Mark. And Mark can’t help but smile, a very wobbly grin, as he reaches out an aching arm to the Spaniard who is glowering by the door.

“Alright mate?” he asks in a small voice. Fernando softens, visibly uncoiling the tightly wound muscles and slumps back into the seat taking the hand Mark offers him.

“You are not forgiven for scaring me like that,” Fernando pouts, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles as Mark’s eyelids begin to droop, “When you are less concussed I will shout at you some more.”

Mark just smiles and drifts back off to sleep.


End file.
